


Down Time

by cjmarlowe



Series: Friendly Competition [2]
Category: Diving RPF
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Sensation Play, going for the gold, kink bingo, london 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:03:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riley has a lot of ideas for what they can do next, but this time it's not his choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down Time

"I'm visualising right now," says Tom as he closes the door behind him. Riley's room again this afternoon because he's got more privacy, as much as anyone has privacy in Athletes Village. It's enough, anyway.

"I guess the question is just what you're visualising," says Riley.

"No, I mean, that's where I said I was," says Tom. "I'm visualising, for tonight. Which I need to be on my own to do."

"So what you're saying is that your coach and your mother didn't follow you here?"

"God, I hope not," says Tom, surging forward to grab the front of Riley's workout t-shirt and kiss him. "Because right now it's my turn."

Riley sighs, but Tom can tell it's put on. He just can. "I guess you won this one fair and square," he says. Which Tom absolutely did, but he's nearly as pleased just that they both ranked high enough that they'll be competing again tonight in the finals. It'd be a shame to have this afternoon be their last time.

Maybe he _should_ be visualising right now, but being with Riley is nearly as good. He has trained as hard as he possibly can for this day. What he needs right now, in this too-short-yet-too-long time between rounds, is _not_ to think about it for a little while. Is to relax his body and not put another level of stress on it.

Okay, maybe this isn't relaxation right _now_ , but he willing to bet it will be afterwards. He's willing to bet he's going to be boneless and happy and might even get a little nap in before he has to go. Not that Riley's ever been inclined to let him get any sleep while they're together.

But this time it's not Riley's choice.

He bypasses everything else in the room as he urges Riley towards the bed, not because he wants to tear the rest of his clothes off and get right to it but because he wants to get comfortable. He wants to feel the surprisingly soft coverlet against his bare arms, he wants to see Riley's face framed by the pillow and lean in and kiss him softly. Riley wanted it hard last night, but today, this afternoon, Tom wants it gentle. And what Tom wants today, he's going to get.

"I brought some things," he says as Riley stretches out, trying to straighten the covers beneath him that he'd left rumpled from the night before. Riley looks more curious than apprehensive, and just for a second Tom wonders what he's imagining. What he might be willing to do, another time. "Don't be dirty. It's just a few things I had in my room."

"Like fan mail?" Riley teases him, and Tom can't help but blush, just a little, glad it hardly shows on his face. Or his anywhere else, for that matter.

"Don't make me gag you," he says, though Riley doesn't look displeased at _that_ idea either. "That's not part of the plan."

"Maybe not," says Riley, "but you've just given me some ideas about what I might want to do tonight, after I beat you."

"I wouldn't bother making too many plans you're never going to get to carry out," he says, and pulls out a couple of the softest scarves he's ever felt.

"Fashion show?" says Riley, and Tom resists the urge to give him a smack. That, though tempting, is not part of the plan either.

"They're my mother's," he says, and hopes Riley doesn't ask what he was doing with them in his room. "Arms up."

"Are you going to tie me up?"

"Don't act like you don't want me to," Tom teases him, and grabs Riley's arm and stretches it out above his head. "Shame there's nothing to tie you to except yourself."

"I'll be good," Riley promises him.

"That's a shame," says Tom. "I was hoping you were going to be very, very bad."

"I'm pretty good at doing that too," says Riley, and grins up at him a little wickedly. Tom doesn't waste any time tying his wrists together with one of the scarves, saving the other for after. "Promise you'll keep them there."

"Actually promise?"

"Actually promise," says Tom. "As long as you think you can keep it. And if you don't...promise anyway. It'll be worth your while."

"I have no doubt," says Riley, "even though you _really_ would have enjoyed my plan for this afternoon."

"Then you should have beat me," says Tom simply, and straddles Riley's body to keep his hips pinned to the bed and lets the second scarf, silk and so soft to the touch, drag ever so gently across his chest, from collarbone to navel.

"That tickles," murmurs Riley, but there's something else in his voice too, something a little darker, and Tom can already feel that he's been getting aroused just by the lead-up to all of this. Maybe just from getting tied up—they're going to have to explore that a little bit more some other time, when marks around his wrists or ankles or anywhere else wouldn't be quite so obvious to the entire world.

"Does it?" says Tom, letting it drift back up again and, other than where he's pinning Riley down, not touching him in any other way. He makes sure it touches his nipples the next time, not as sensitive as a girl's, maybe, but still tightening to points at the barest, most delicate sensation.

Riley lets out a laugh but it, too, is a little too husky to be anything other than arousal. He touches Riley's throat with the scarf, first delicately then stretched between both hands, not in any kind of effort to cut off his air but just hard enough that Riley would feel the pressure. His cock twitches so hard Tom can actually feel it, and that's something interesting to note too.

It's not something he's going to risk in the middle of competition, but in the back of his mind it's now on the growing list of things to explore another time.

"Just relax," he says, which just seems to make Riley tenser. Not the bad way, Tom thinks; he's just trying to anticipate what's going to come next. "This is not as kinky as it looks."

The feather is from his pillow, plucked from a stretched seam and so light and soft that he almost loses it in the breeze his body makes when he moves in close to Riley's again.

"I guess that all depends on where you're putting it," he says, but Tom's not putting it anywhere inappropriate. He's just brushing it against Riley's skin and not letting him do anything about it. Riley bites his lip after a little while, but he doesn't try to bring his hands down and Tom thinks that probably deserves a little reward. So after torturing one of his nipples with it for a little while he leans in and licks hard with the flat of his tongue and then bites it gently.

 _That_ certainly gets Riley to take notice.

"More of that?" he says, and Riley sighs and sinks back into his pillow again.

"Do I need to say please?"

"It wouldn't hurt," says Tom, as he starts drifting the feather over the other.

"Please," says Riley. "You can...ah, god, that drives me nuts."

"That's even better than a please," says Tom, and when he's finished with this one he gives it a hard pinch, feeling Riley's cock jump again. "Do you think you could come just from me doing that?"

"Maybe if we had all night," says Riley, which is more honest than Tom was expecting. "It's a...a slow process."

"That's not a no," he says and files that away, too. By the end of the Olympics he's going to have enough fodder to carry them through the next two years of competition. "Too bad we have somewhere to be later."

"Yeah, we probably shouldn't skip that," he says, and then hisses when Tom pinches both nipples simultaneously. He wouldn't have thought to do it, except that Riley's body seems to like it _so very much_.

"I brought some more things," says Tom, "but maybe we should stick with what's working for us."

He moves off Riley's body and spreads his legs, knees up, and starts trailing the feather up the inside of his thigh, right to his groin without ever touching his dick or even his balls then trailing back down again. Over and over.

"God, okay, I take it back," says Riley. "I take it back, I absolutely cannot come like that and you should definitely start sucking me off as soon as possible."

Tom grins where Riley can't see his face, and brushes the feather over his balls, too. Riley squirms and pushes his feet into the bed and draws his knees up tight but he _never brings his arms down_.

"Please," he says again, even though Tom hasn't been trying to make him beg, he just wanted to see what this _did_ to him, if he liked the feeling of nice things as much as Tom did, if in a different context. He likes soft sheets. He likes the feeling of hair brushing across his skin, he likes down and satin and warm, dry skin. And if he likes slaps, too, at least part of that is the sheer contrast with all the rest.

It's why he thought to pinch Riley's nipples after, and why he wasn't entirely surprised it felt so good.

"Wait for it," he says, which is a promise because he doesn't want to push Riley past what he can stand, just far enough that it'll be amazing when it finally happens. And he wants to gets to decide when it happens. It's his win, his choice.

"I can't," says Riley, but he can. And he doesn't bring his arms down, he doesn't stop Tom in anyway; he _wants_ to, he wants to ride this thing out with him to see where it goes.

"You can," says Tom. "Just a little longer. You know how to resist temptation. You know how to be patient. You know how to play the long game."

All athletes play the long game, training for _years_ to achieve one single thing. He has no doubt at all that Riley can do this a little longer.

He pinches the skin of Riley's inner thigh even as he brushes the feather over his balls, and Riley actually lets out a sharp sound, just this side of a shout. Tom does it again on the other side, just a little pinch. It won't even show a few minutes from now, let alone later tonight when his thighs will be bare for the judges and the world.

"I can't," says Riley.

"You can," says Tom, but even as he says it he moves in to lick at Riley's balls, then cup them in his hand as he licks further, all the way up his dick to the head. Riley jerks up, almost into his mouth, but Tom stays in control, just licks at him and then, when he's sure of Tom's reaction, finally sucks gently on the head. He's never let Riley—or anyone—come in his mouth before, but he thinks maybe today is the right time. Because it is wholly his decision, everything they do, and somehow that just makes it easier.

He presses his short, sharp fingernails into Riley's thigh as he sucks him and hears his quickened breath, his audible gasps, rhythmic and harsh.

He sucks him harder, and Riley _tells_ him he's going to come, he tells him twenty times in a row, but he doesn't tell him to stop and Tom doesn't want to. He strokes Riley's skin with one hand and pinches it with the other and in between he tongues and sucks him until Riley's breath catches and he fists the blanket on either side of him and then he's coming in Tom's mouth.

He wanted this, but he's not really ready to swallow yet so he sort of holds it there for a moment, then pulls off and finds a tissue mercifully nearby and discreetly spits into it. Riley has gone limp, eyes closed, and probably hasn't even noticed.

"Just lay there," says Tom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just lay there and I'm going to come on you, okay?"

Riley says something that sounds like okay, and in any case he doesn't really move which he certainly could have if he wanted to. He's still wrung out by the orgasm, and Tom would worry that it was _too_ much except they didn't actually do anything that strenuous so it was probably just enough.

He closes his eyes as he starts jerking off, but only for a second because, after making Riley come like that, what he really wants right now is to see his come on Riley's skin and he doesn't care if that's weird. It's what he wants.

He watches his own hand moving, pays attention to what he does in a way he never really has before—who _watches_ themselves wanking, really?—and at the same time he watches the way Riley is now watching him. He tries to stay steady but it's all too much, and he braces himself on his arm and jerks faster, more desperate, sacrificing style for expediency. When just thinking about what you're doing makes you hotter, it's no time to try to draw it out.

He comes suddenly, a few moments before he's expecting it, and almost misses the way it stripes Riley's skin because he's too busy looking at his eyes. He stays very still for a few moments, catching his breath, then he wipes his fingers on Riley's thigh and moves over so he's stretched out at Riley's side, everything on Riley's body just the way he left it: hands bound, scarf loosely over his throat, feather drifted down on his chest and come splashed across his stomach.

He pauses, then unties his hands.

"What's that feel like?" he says, and Riley lowers one hand to his own stomach and rubs the come into his skin with his thumb, moving it in lazy circles.

"Warm," he says after a moment, then kind of grins, a half a grin, and adds, "Starting to get sticky."

Tom feels less weird when he does that, convinced that maybe what he wants isn't exactly an imposition or a competition. That maybe they kind of want the same things.

Which doesn't mean he's not going to work like hell to win the final round tonight. Mostly that's about shooting for a medal, with his whole country watching. But it's a very small bit about this, too, and what he knows is going to be coming after.

"My mobile's going to start ringing very soon," he says, reluctantly.

"You didn't turn it off?"

"It's on vibrate. If I turn it off, they just come looking, and that never ends well," he says. He doesn't want to get up, but not in an aching and exhausted way. He's just comfortable and loose and _relaxed_ and everything he really _should_ be, at this stage. Leaving would be counterproductive.

From the way he nestles into the bed, eyes open and still stroking his own skin, lightly, flaking bits off, Riley's feeling the exact same way.

"Am I going to have fingernail marks later?" he says, and Tom almost tells him that nobody is going to be looking at the insides of his thighs, except they are. Looking and photographing.

"No," he says, and hopes he's right. He's pretty sure he's right. "Still think your plan would have been better?"

"My plans are always better," says Riley, "but I think this was an acceptable substitute."

"I'm glad you approve," says Tom dryly. "I hope you like what I've got planned for later just as much."

"I hope you like what _I've_ got planned for later," says Riley.

Tom just smirks and nips at Riley's shoulder and can't bring himself to get up. They both used physical abilities and significant mental focus in this. He'll just call it training.

That way, he can lie here with him just a little bit longer before they're both forced to go.


End file.
